The Secret Diary of Bruce Wayne
by Dommi-chan
Summary: What Bruce Wayne is REALLY like in his off-time. Updated on 4-12: Spoiler and Catwoman...but why is Stephanie crying?
1. Entry 1

The Very Secret Diary of Bruce Wayne  
  
By Dommi  
  
Okay…I had this epiphany while taking a friend home recently that Bruce Wayne needs to do more weird things in fan fiction. Not Batman…Bruce Wayne. I mean, the man has serious potential for comedy gold, with his golf and his perpetually wearing white socks with his suits. (I must say, if that doesn't scream heterosexual, I don't know what does, folks.)  
  
So um…Bruce Wayne, Batman, Dick Grayson, Nightwing, Tim Drake, Robin, Cassandra Cain, Batgirl, Helena Bertinelli, Huntress, Barbara Gordon, Oracle, Dinah Lance, Black Canary, Clark Kent, Superman, Lois Lane, Jim Gordon, the Justice League, and Alfred Pennyworth were created and are owned by DC Comics. Basically, anyone who shows up here doesn't belong to me. The original Very Secret Diaries concept belongs to Cassie Claire, but I had honestly never heard of it until my friend Marty did one for Snape from Harry Potter.  
  
This is dedicated to the Christy, because a) it's her birthday and b) she is the one who I had the idea with and who helped encourage me. Give her candy or kill her for her complicity, whichever floats your boat.  
  
I think I should apologize for this, but I don't want to. So there. Oh and this is SUPPOSED TO BE OUT OF CHARACTER. Otherwise, it's just not funny.  
  
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Dear Diary,  
  
I'm stealing...uh, following Alfred's example and have decided to keep a log of my adventures, both as therapy and just to have on record. However, as he is chronicling my adventures as the Batman, I decided I should take care of my more simplistic "real" life.   
  
After all, not everyone is Bruce Wayne, wealthy playboy socialite and all-around hot piece of ass. I think I owe it to the world to see what life for this industrialist, philanthropist, modern-day Cassanova and crime fighter is really like.  
  
Let's see…today has been a good day for many reasons. For one thing, I woke up feeling pretty this morning. More than usual, I mean. Rarely have even my crystalline blue eyes been so sparkling and-dare I say it-luminescent! Although, I'm a bit concerned that the new Batsuit makes me look hippy…I'll have to look into that….   
  
But the other reason why today is the best day of this year at least is that my project is finally completed!  
  
Wayne Manor finally has its own Starbucks.  
  
It's in the East Wing, next to my study for easy access before late-night patrolling! Now I can have my necessary half-calf extra hot raspberry mocha soy latte with whip whenever my pretty little heart desires!  
  
Being richer than God rules!  
  
Also signed up for salsa lessons this afternoon. Soon, I too will be able to shake it like Shakira. (And I am very familiar with how Shakira "shakes it"…heh, heh. Yeah.) My first lesson is tomorrow evening, and I hear my instructor is excellent.  
  
IMPORTANT THINGS OF NOTE:  
  
Tee-Time: 1:00 PM at Bristol Links  
  
Patrol Route: Fashion District to Arkham with Cassandra (Tim has something to do with that school thing of his or something.)  
  
Days Until I am Sexiest Man Alive: 35  
  
Song of the Moment: "Burning Up" by Kylie Minogue (Note to self: Get Kylie for 38th Birthday fiesta.)  
  
I think that's everything for now, Diary. I'll be sure to let you know how the first lesson goes!  
  
Bruce Wayne 


	2. Entry 2

Dear Diary,  
  
Have I mentioned how brilliant I am for putting a Starbucks in Wayne Manor? Because I am currently sipping a peppermint mocha Frappucino in the Batcave as I write this. This is just awesome!  
  
Had a surprise visit from my "eldest son" today, chasing down some drug ring from Blüdhaven. In fact, Dick's still sitting to my left with some Chai and a pumpkin scone.  
  
Heh. His name's "Dick."  
  
He hates it when I make that joke. Then again, he also hates it when I beat his sorry bitch ass at Soul Calibur II, but whatever.  
  
I have to ask though...what self-respecting people name their son Richard and then choose "Dick" as his nickname? That's just asking for him to become either a porn star or a politician. Furthermore, what child goes along with it? I mean, he may as well tell people to call him Willy or Woody or even Schlong, for Christ's sake.  
  
So anyways, Night-Wang and I were on patrol this evening and everything was routine until we went to a warehouse over in the waterfront district. It seemed like a simple drug ring, nothing major, when out of nowhere these tall women with big hair started attacking us with their sequined Versace handbags and calling us voyeurs.   
  
We were both appalled, until they realized who we were. Then they not only apologized, but were really nice! One in particular, calling herself Lady Chardonnay, talked clothing with me for a while. She's a big Burberry fan too!   
  
Night-Wang kept muttering something about the ladies being queens. Not sure what he meant, although Chardonnay did seem pretty regal. Must be the height. Anyways, we had a great time just chatting with the girls, although Cock got a little panicky and yelped something about needing to go quickly, which I found to be pretty rude.  
  
"The Queens were coming on to me, Bruce! They had their hands in places that are not meant for them!"   
  
What a whiner.   
  
Firstly, with me there, who the hell is going to hit on him? Cowl or no cowl, I'm far prettier than he is! Secondly, what's the big deal about some perfectly nice young women being friendly? I pointed out their resemblance to Starfire and he got a little pale and asked me to never mention it again.   
  
He needs to lighten up, Diary. I mean, really.  
  
Also had my first salsa lesson today. It went very, very well if I may say so. My instructor, Enrique, was very patient and attentive, and he also mentioned that he liked how my sweater brought out my eyes. I thanked him because, really, it was true. Midnight blue is very becoming on me.  
  
Of course, I'd be coming if I was on me too. Oh God, I'm hilarious!  
  
I'll have to remember to speak with Alfred concerning my birthday fiesta plans. So far I have Kylie Minogue, Justin Timberlake, Hilary Duff (Is she legal yet? Rowr!), and Usher for music, but I feel I need more. I'll continue to ponder this as I have time.  
  
IMPORTANT THINGS OF NOTE:  
  
Meeting Time Tomorrow: 10:00 AM in Wayne Enterprises Main Conference Room  
  
Days Until I am Sexiest Man Alive: 33 (It's currently 2:30 AM)  
  
Need to have Alfred purchase new Armani slacks for trip to Metropolis  
  
Song of the Moment: "Say You'll be There" by the Spice Girls (Man, I miss them. Maybe if I pay them enough, they'll have a reunion. Hm, this idea has merit.)  
  
That's all for tonight, Diary. For now, I must school Prick over there in the fine art of Smash Brothers Melee.  
  
Bruce Wayne 


	3. Entry 3

Dear Diary,   
  
I totally won the outfit from the auction. Hahahaha I am the greatest! No one outbids Bruce Wayne! Soon those precious green plaid pants will be on display here in the cave! I not only did a dance of victory, but had a celebratory peppermint latte as well.  
  
On an unrelated topic, I'm becoming a bit concerned about Tim.  
  
Last night, when we were out on patrol, he kept staring at me. It was really distracting, and also, eerie. He nearly got jumped four times by muggers. And when he'd look at me, he'd mumble something about confusion and being lost. The words "crazy" and "Bruce" were used a lot as well.  
  
I really don't know what's going on, especially because he would only stare at me when my back was turned. Especially when we'd be roof-jumping and my cape would billow up. Wait a minute. It's all starting to make sense now...Tim's in love with me!   
  
It's the only logical explanation! Why he's so quiet, except for the mumbling and the staring. Oh, I bet he's so mixed up and shy about it, he doesn't know what to do. Poor Tim.  
  
Not that I blame him. I mean, I am witty, charming, gorgeous, rich, and fantastic in the sack. Just ask any woman who's ever met me.   
  
However, there's no way I can encourage this. How would it look for me to egg on the hormone-ridden feelings of a teenaged boy? The last thing I need is for people to start talking about Bruce Wayne keeping little boys as his own personal party favours.  
  
No, no I'll have to be firm but gentle. Make it clear that his feelings will have to go unrequited and he will have to find a new object of his affections. How to do...I'll have to consult Alfred, I think. He always knows what to do in situations where a young boy is in love with with a person and the person can't reciprocate.  
  
Well...or so I'd imagine. I mean, he always knows what to do with all the other weird shit that happens around here. This is probably nothing some cookies and a vicodin won't cure.  
  
In other news, I finalized my guest list for the Birthday Fiesta, tentatively titled Waynestock. I have a lot of special guests getting invites, including the JLA, Titans, and Britney Spears. I figure I'll have the announcements sent out soon, so people can plan ahead. And purchase me presents. Ah, sweet, sweet material items that bring such joy and shininess to my life!  
  
No salsa lessons tonight, due to the Black and White Ball. Enrique was really disappointed when I told him I would have to miss class, to the point of asking me to stay late to make up what I'd miss. He takes his dancing very seriously.  
  
You know...I haven't seen Catwoman in a while. I wonder how good ol' Jugs is doing.  
  
STUFF I ABSOLUTELY CAN NOT FORGET:  
  
Days Until I am Sexiest Man Alive: 27 (I can practically taste it.)  
  
Song of the Moment: Kelis, "Milkshake" (I'd like to see if really she brings all the boys in the yard. I mean, damn, that's some skill.)  
  
Have to make arrangements for possible investors in Wayne Tech arriving next Tuesday. Corporate suites-a-plenty must be reserved.  
  
Dodgeball game using cannon is scheduled for Monday evening. It's a training exercise. (Okay, it's an excuse to whup everyone else's ass. I love making myself feel good by tearing others down!)  
  
I just noticed the time, and I have to shower and put on my tuxedo, so I have enough time to get Lucy at her hotel. I'm going to think more on my Tim problem, Diary. Until next time!  
  
Bruce Wayne 


	4. Entry 4

Dear Diary,  
  
I am so full of caramel macchiato right now that looking hippy in the Batsuit isn't even a concern, compared to the latte gut and eight chins I'm sure to be sporting soon. Although the new pair of Yummy Sushi pajamas? Are incredibly comfy and warm.  
  
I'm also sorry that it's been so long since I've written, but I've been rather occupied lately. I haven't even patrolled in three days, that's how busy things have been here in the cave.  
  
I think I just may have simultaneously made the greatest discovery in the history of mankind and fallen in love.  
  
Yes, it's true. With a tiny, little-known website I discovered the other day.  
  
www.ebay.com  
  
This place has EVERYTHING! I mean, EVERYTHING! I've already purchased a metal Donny and Marie lunchbox, several Versace ties, a dodge ball cannon, an autographed copy of "Achtung, Baby," a pony, and a villa in the south of France. That little "Buy it now" button is quite possibly the best thing ever.  
  
Well, okay, it's really a close second to my amazing and pert ass. But still, high up there.  
  
Take my word for it, Diary, this site is going to be huge when it hits.   
  
I did manage to make it to my salsa lessons. Enrique is a wonderful instructor---he's even willing to go the extra miles to help students that aren't catching on as quickly as they should. For example, I was having difficulties with some steps in class, and not only did he offer to show me personally how to get it right, he even put his hands on my hips so that I could feel how they were supposed to be moving. I guess it must have helped because he kept saying que narga dulce. You know, "nice moves, good job."   
  
Which, was very nice of him because I was working really hard and I'm glad it paid off. He also offered to teach me privately at his condo, which I just may have to take him up on. I do want to be the best dancer at my birthday bash, after all. Speaking of, I need to finalize that guest list.  
  
THINGS THAT ARE MUY IMPORTANTE:  
  
Lunch Meeting with Lucius concerning new Wayne Tech R&D budget: 1:00 PM at Amai Sakura  
  
Days Until I am Sexiest Man Alive: 28 (Like the movie!)  
  
Song of the Moment: Britney Spears and Madonna, "Me Against the Music" (The video is HOT. I'd gladly get in the zone with the two of them. And by get in the zone, I mean have sex with.)  
  
Also attending the Black and White Ball to raise funds for the Missing Children's Foundation. Picking up Lucy at 9:00 PM at the Gotham Omni. Remember to have Alfred get tux from cleaner's.   
  
Guest list for birthday fiesta. It's going to be here sooner than I think!  
  
Tim just arrived. He's all suited up...oh, right I guess I'm supposed to patrol with him or something. Oh crap! I can't go anywhere! This auction ends in like ten minutes! Some ass-jockey named "green_arrow_ollie" thinks he can outbid me on Andre 3000's outfit from the "Hey Ya!" video. You know, the one with that snazzy ascot.  
  
I beg to differ.  
  
Have to cut this short as I now have to send that little bitch crying home to his Mommy. Until next time, Diary!  
  
Bruce Wayne 


	5. Entry 5

Notes from Dommi: Sorry it's taken so long. I've moved, changed jobs, gone to California, dealt with a sick cat, and…well, you don't care. Here, have more Diary!

Dear Diary,

So I'm up in this hellhole of a base the League calls home, and I'm so not in the mood to be here. I'm all pissy because I just started the Atkins program and can't eat anything.

God damn do I want some Krispy Kreme right now.

Also have caffeine withdrawl headache as there is no Starbuck's in space apparently. I think I should put one in up here as well. Hrm...the idea has merit.

I hate coming to these things. They're so boring. Queen's over there pouting and mumbling about how he didn't get something on ebay, West is tapping his fingers so fast you can't even hear it, and Super-jackass is up front talking about some disturbance no one cares about in Metropolis.

I swear if he bitches about Luthor one more time.... "Yes Clark, Lex is who's at fault when it rains. You're right. We'll arrest him right now."

I seriously can not cope with the Justice Losers sans latte, Diary. It's just too much to ask.

At least I'm prettiest one here. Well...possibly except for Rayner. Hrm...maybe I should get Hal back...I am so much cuter than he ever was. Too bad I can't just fire Rayner or something. Why oh why can't everything be a corporation like Wayne Enterprises?

Oh, Diana's just arriving. This is always the best part of these meetings. God bless the lenses in the mask so she doesn't know I'm staring at her ass.

And what an ass it is. I have _got_ to hit that someday.

THINGS ABOUT STUFF:  
Put Starbuck's in here **now**. Wally and Kyle are now having one of those girlie slapping fights.  
Birthday invites sent out, awaiting RSVPs. Already some from superheroes, Dick (heh heh heh), and Diana.  
Reschedule meeting tomorrow for Wednesday. Forgot I had promised Luthor 10:00 tee time at Bristol Links.  
Also, don't forget to cheat like a mofo. Only way Lex won't win.  
Remind Alfred to call Huntress in for patrol. (Heh, speaking of "wanting to tap that ass." Yowza!)

Shit, J'onn just asked me a question. I'm out like hammer pants!

Bruce Wayne


	6. Entry 6

Dear Diary,

Funny story. Last night while on patrol with…shit, what is her name again? That purple chick stalking Tim? Folder? Foiler? Sailor? Whatever the hell. Girl and I were on patrol last night in the garment district when the subject of Timmy came up.

So Girl started gushing about how awesome he is or whatever, which just proves that she is crazy, because I am better. I mean, duh.

Anyways, she wouldn't shut the goddamn hell up, so I might have "accidentally" told her about Tim being in love with me.

And she "accidentally" started crying in the middle of the alley.

Oh God! It was so funny, and I am a horrible person for feeling that way.

Which, I can live with Diary. Really. I can.

Anyway, Girl started shrieking about how it couldn't be true and she couldn't believe it. The usual cliché crap about your boy being gay or whatever, and she ran off sobbing. Which was possibly the most awesome thing I've ever seen.

I really don't like her much. I'll never forget that time she took Alfred's special cookies from me, "jokingly" saying that I was getting fat.

Vapid whore.

So I continued my patrol alone, and who should I run into but Selina-Jugs herself. And she was looking fab-u-lous. I mean…she's always hot but goddamn.

So, once I beat up some muggers, we went back to her place and screwed like it was going out of style.

And I have to say…until last night, I had never experienced a Chinese jump rope and a stepladder quite that way. I will definitely be trying that one again soon.

The birthday party is getting near! Oh Diary I'm so excited…although, I'm a bit concerned about my decision to invite the Titans. They're awfully young. Then again, Wally did catch Wonder-jailbait and Super-clone in the broom closet together. So maybe it won't be such a drag having them around after all. Ten bucks says they sneak off to Dick's old room to get their freak on.

Things and People (heh) to do:

Go shopping for kicky new outfit for party in New York City. Am thinking awesome jeans and sexy shirt combination.

Private salsa lesson at Enrique's loft tomorrow. Don't be late…you need the practice!

Song of the Moment: "Dip it Low," by Christina Millian. (I'll dip her low. Oh, yeah.)

Time to go, Diary. I have some meeting with the Board or Directors or some bullshit now. Lates!


End file.
